Silence.
The tent at the center of the campsite, glowing softly in the night, was utterly still.
It wasn’t a very large tent. Though it showed signs of careful preparation—enough for the expedition leader’s use—it was designed for quick setup and takedown, so no one would call it anything fancy.
Still, its modest size meant that just a handful of light stones were enough to chase away the darkness of early dawn, which was at least a small comfort.
The quiet stretched on for quite some time.
Inside the tent, a man and two women sat around a low table. Among them, a particularly young-looking girl clung tightly to the woman beside her, her face pale with fear. The woman gently stroked the girl’s hair, lifting her gaze thoughtfully.
Across from them, the man was intently studying something.
“Su-hyun, do you have any idea what this might be?” Ko Yeon-ju asked cautiously, as if afraid to interrupt.
Kim Su-hyun glanced up briefly from the records she was reviewing and met Yeon-ju’s eyes.
Ever since An-sol had woken up screaming in the middle of the night, Lee Yoo-jung had immediately reported to Kim Su-hyun under Yeon-ju’s orders.
It hadn’t taken long to assess the situation. Su-hyun had quickly silenced An-sol and brought her to her own tent—not only to avoid disturbing the others’ sleep but also to prevent any strange rumors from spreading.
To an outsider, it might seem like an overreaction—making such a fuss over a single dream in the dead of night.
But Su-hyun and Yeon-ju were different. Having witnessed An-sol’s near-miraculous abilities firsthand, they couldn’t afford to overlook even the smallest detail.
Su-hyun lowered her gaze again, scanning the records from various angles before speaking quietly.
“Well… the images are pretty much a mess…”
“Ugh…”
“Hmm. It’s hard to make out clearly. But it’s not like there’s nothing to go on.”
“Really?”
At the sound of a tearful whimper, Su-hyun quickly corrected herself. Yeon-ju’s eyes lit up—she was curious about what clues Su-hyun might have found.
But Su-hyun shook her head calmly.
“It’s just a personal guess. Nothing I can be certain about.”
She was reluctant to say more. Yeon-ju pondered for a moment, then spoke again.
“Could it be that thing?”
“That thing?”
“During today’s march, Su-hyun said she felt like we were missing something important.”
“Oh.”
Su-hyun blinked briefly, then gave a faint smile, as if she remembered every little detail. Suddenly, Yeon-ju noticed that An-sol, who had been fussing endlessly, had fallen silent.
Su-hyun continued.
“No, it’s not that. I’ve already recalled what I was missing.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes. It seems unrelated to this.”
“I see. Well, it’s subtle either way. A blessing in disguise, or a curse in blessing.”
Remembering was a relief, but there was no word yet on a solution. Instead, another problem had surfaced—vague and hinted at rather than clear. That was what Yeon-ju meant.
Su-hyun shrugged.
“Misfortune upon misfortune. That’s how these things go. But don’t worry too much. I’ll keep it in mind.”
She gathered the records and tucked them away, her expression calm and untroubled. Seeing this, Yeon-ju felt the anxiety in her chest slowly ease.
Right. When had things ever been easy? Problems always stood in their way, but this man had always smashed through every one of them.
With that thought, a genuine smile finally spread across Yeon-ju’s lips.
Then, leaning toward An-sol, who was still staring blankly at Su-hyun, Yeon-ju whispered softly.
“Our Sol~”
“Hm?”
“Want to sleep with oppa and unni tonight?”
“Oppa and unni?”
An-sol blinked rapidly, as if confused by the suggestion, then suddenly fixed her gaze on Su-hyun like a lightning bolt. She let out a strange sound—somewhere between a whimper and a sob—trying desperately to express herself.
Yeon-ju chuckled quietly, and Su-hyun looked amused but also a bit exasperated. Then she sighed deeply and shrugged, as if to say, “Do as you like.”
An-sol dashed over and dove onto the bed. Soon after, the light stones flickered off, and a cozy darkness settled over the tent.
Though the bed was far too small for three, An-sol was happy—not just because of the warmth. In front of her was Su-hyun’s broad, solid chest; behind her, Yeon-ju’s soft, ample form pressed close, enveloping her completely in warmth.
“Sleep well, my little one~ In the front yard and the back hill~”
And a lullaby, too.
In truth, Yeon-ju’s voice was far too sultry for a lullaby, but after Su-hyun gently patted her back a few times, An-sol’s eyelids grew heavy.
Soon, even breaths began to even out.
An-sol dreamed.
Once again, she found herself in the same place.
A pitch-black void filled only with darkness—nothing visible at all. Just as she had shaken off the bad feeling and drifted into a cheerful sleep, she opened her eyes to find herself standing in that same space.
She turned her head absentmindedly, then suddenly froze. Nearby, an indescribably evil aura hung heavy.
Instinctively, An-sol knew. That aura was the same unknown entity that had nearly grabbed her earlier. This time, it was here from the start, as if it had known she would return.
Slowly, the presence began to approach. An-sol’s face twisted in distress, her eyes welling with tears.
Then, suddenly, she felt a hand gently rest on the crown of her head. Before she could even startle, a man strode past her and headed straight toward the evil presence.
After a moment, a chilling beam of light slashed diagonally through the darkness.
The evil shrieked and faded away—swiftly dispatched by the man.
Seeing his familiar back, a bright smile spread across An-sol’s face.
“Oppa!”
Yes. The man who appeared in An-sol’s dream was none other than Kim Su-hyun.
She called out happily, but Su-hyun didn’t respond. He simply scanned the surroundings and then quickened his pace.
An-sol tilted her head in confusion but began to follow him.
It was strange. No matter how long she chased, she couldn’t close the distance between them. She called his name repeatedly, but Su-hyun kept walking straight ahead, silent.
He wasn’t ignoring her. Whenever she struggled to keep up, he would stop and wait.
Despite her growing questions, An-sol kept calling out to him at the top of her lungs.
Then, suddenly, her eyes widened to the size of lanterns. She didn’t know when it had started, but without looking away, she realized Su-hyun was once again engaged in battle.
This time, it wasn’t evil. Rather, it was overwhelmingly destructive yet simultaneously solemn and sacred—like facing a god. The aura was incomparably powerful compared to the earlier malevolence.
The struggle seemed fierce, but once again, Su-hyun emerged victorious. A piercing scream filled the air, followed by a burst of light so intense it seemed to drive away the darkness.
When the light finally faded, An-sol, barely able to open her eyes, immediately searched for Su-hyun. He was still walking somewhere ahead.
This time, he didn’t wait. The distance between them had grown considerably, so An-sol hurried to catch up.
“Hmm?”
Then, suddenly, Su-hyun vanished without a trace—like the ground had suddenly swallowed him whole.
For some reason, a sense of urgency welled up inside her, and she ran faster.
When she reached the spot where he had disappeared, she saw it.
A massive swirling pit in the ground.
It looked like a black hole.
Two days passed.
They had expected at least one attack during that time, but their prediction was completely wrong.
While crossing the shadowed hills, the enemy never once struck. In fact, they didn’t even show any sign of presence. The shadowed hills were truly empty—and the end was in sight. At this rate, they would be clear by lunchtime.
Then…
“Good, good. Very good.”
“What nonsense are you spouting now?”
“Not nonsense. Hey, is today the sixth day? Or the seventh?”
“About a week, I guess. Why?”
“Ah, I just want to stop marching already.”
“Pfft. Why? Scared?”
The voices of Ahn Hyun and Lee Yoo-jung. In a way, their chatter was the kind of idle talk that should have been forbidden during a march, but I didn’t stop them. I just kept walking silently. At least from now on, it was better than letting the mood sink again. Since I hadn’t managed to sharpen the atmosphere as I’d planned, I needed to preserve whatever momentum we had left until we reached the base.
How much time had passed?
Accompanied by their tireless chatter, I kept walking, and before I knew it, I sensed we were nearing the end of the hill’s shadowed area.
Because right ahead, I saw the large hill I remembered as a single point.
“Huh? This is a hill? Not a mountain?”
And indeed, it was. To put it mildly, this hill was almost as big as Namsan, standing out from the other hills by its sheer size. It marked the boundary of the shadowed zone. Once we descended this hill, we could consider ourselves nearly through this area.
With that in mind, I slowly climbed the hill, lost in thought.
There were three questions that wouldn’t leave my mind as we advanced through the Steel Mountain Range.
The first was something I’d missed before, a question that came up after passing through Zone 1.
The Southern Expeditionary Force was now breaking through Zone 2. So where had the monsters from Zone 1 disappeared to? We’d only found traces of their escape, but after that, no sign of them at all.
Second: Why had the monsters in Zone 2 vanished completely after the attack three days ago?
And third: Ansol’s dream.
I pulled out the record Ansol had drawn from my pocket.
The drawing was a complete mess. The only saving grace was that it was very simple.
At the bottom was a bumpy, deflated tire-like circle. Just above it was a relatively neat circle, noticeably smaller than the one below. (Viewed broadly, it looked like a figure eight or a snowman.) From the top of the upper circle, countless straight lines were densely packed together.
This strange shape appeared repeatedly—nearly a dozen times—in the record.
When I first saw it, that was all I could make of it. Even though it was a hazy memory from a dream, I couldn’t recognize what it was at first.
But after studying the drawing whenever I had a moment, I noticed something peculiar: these odd shapes were clustered heavily to one side. Some were very large, others quite small. That gave me a clue.
Perspective.
The moment I thought of that, I finally understood what Ansol’s drawing meant.
No wonder I hadn’t understood before—it was because I’d been looking at it the wrong way. In other words, if I flipped it upside down, the answer became clear. As soon as I saw it that way, a scene from early in the second run came back to me.
It wasn’t a pleasant memory, and a bitter taste crept in as I recalled it. But then, suddenly, I noticed my feet felt much more comfortable. Lost in thought, I realized I’d reached the top of the hill.
From this fairly large hilltop, the surrounding landscape stretched out clearly before me. I fixed my gaze ahead and stopped walking without hesitation.
“Hyung! Why did you stop all of a sudden?” Jin Soo-hyun asked, but I didn’t answer. Instead, I quietly drew my sword.
The endless chatter abruptly stopped, and I felt hurried footsteps approaching.
When I judged they’d caught up enough, I calmly raised my hand and pointed forward.
“Uh…”
Someone gasped, as if stunned.
---------------------------= Author’s Note ---------------------------=
On second thought, this note is too embarrassing, so I’m deleting it.